


i will bring my light to your darkness

by miss_universe



Series: Writer's Month 2019 [19]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Brienne is the Best, F/M, Inspired by Orpheus and Eurydice (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), Post-Canon Fix-It, Post-Season/Series 08 Finale, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Resurrection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-20
Updated: 2019-08-20
Packaged: 2020-09-18 20:05:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20318728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miss_universe/pseuds/miss_universe
Summary: The night after she arrives in King's Landing, the Warrior comes to her in a dream.Writer's Month 2019 Prompt: Day Nineteen - Mythology





	i will bring my light to your darkness

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt fill for Writer's Month 2019.  
Day nineteen: Mythology 
> 
> an enormous thank you to dancinginthecenteroftheworld, who beta'ed this fic. we stan forever.  
<3 <3 <3

The night after she arrives in King’s Landing, the Warrior appears to her in her dreams. He is clad in all black armor, a scar crossing his right eye. It begins from the middle of his forehead to the ending of his jaw. His one remaining eye is a blazing hazel, and he has long dark hair that has been gathered into a braid. His skin is dark and warm in the light, and he has the build of a Clegane, if not even more muscular and tall. She knows him without fully knowing, but her heart recognizes him.  
  
“Brienne of Tarth,” he says quietly, watching her with a weary eye. She drops onto the floor in a kneel, bending her head in respect. The Warrior gives a small, pleased hum and places his hand onto her shoulder, the warm weight of it making her skin tingle. She realizes that she is naked in front of him, but she is curiously unbothered by it. For some reason, she knows, he is not judging or leering. He wants her at her most natural and she understands.  
  
“You know, the Maiden and I always fight over you,” he tells her, gentle amusement in his tone. There is no mockery in his words, instead there is an invitation to join in on the laughter. “I usually win.” She smiles at her feet. Then he seems to deflate, and he quietly murmurs, “We all wanted better for you, Ser Brienne.”  
  
The thrill of the Warrior calling her by title dies at the rest of his words and she swallows thickly, because suddenly there is a rock lodged in her throat. She knows what he is referring to.  
  
“So did I,” she replies quietly, her eyes trained on the ground. “But — he was still a good man. A conflicted man, who might not have made good choices, but his heart was as golden as the armor he wore.” She looks up after she finishes speaking. The Warrior is smiling at her, warmth and a startled pleasure in his eyes.  
  
“You defend him, even now?” he asks, but his tone is indulgent, as if he already knows the answer. He probably does. He is her patron, and she was molded by him even before she left the womb.  
  
“Of course” she says anyway, the words falling easily from her lips. It is not a lie.  
  
“What would you say if I told you that you could have him breathing once again? Not as an Other, but like Jon Snow? Living and breathing once more?”  
  
Her lips part and she inhales sharply, her heartbeat quickening inside her chest. “What — what do you mean?” she asks, and her head is telling her not to hope, but her heart is calling his name over and over, wailing it like a grieving widow.  
  
The Warrior looks at her steadily for a moment, taking his measure of her before he finally responds. “I have asked The Stranger to give you a chance to take him back from Beyond. They agreed. But — there are conditions.” 

“Name them,” she says instantly, frantically. It does not matter what they are. She will do anything — or almost anything. She just wants him back. He deserves it, he deserves to be living and enjoying life, especially without the dark shadow that is his sister pulling him down. 

The Warrior cups her cheek, cradling it in his palm. She leans into it as he says, “Rise.” She does. Once she is standing, he takes a step back. “You will go to where the Stranger takes souls. You will be where his soul rests, and he will be behind you. You will walk towards the light, and once you reach it, he will be mortal once more.”

Brienne waits, because that sounds too easy, and the Warrior would not look so down-trodden if that was it. She is right. 

He continues, “You must not look at him. If you look at him or turn around, he will stay in the Stranger’s grasp, and there will be nothing anyone can do. The Stranger also dislikes me asking this favor, so they will try to stop you. It will be difficult. And in the end, he may not choose to follow you.” 

Brienne takes a deep breath, then nods once. “If he chooses not to follow, I will understand. But I must try. I will not fail.” 

The Warrior smiles at her, his teeth a bright white. “I know,” he says with pride, then cups the back of her head and gives her a kiss on the forehead. She falls backward into darkness.

* * *

Brienne opens her eyes. There is a forest in front of her, but it is still and unmoving, darker than any live forest she has ever seen. There is no wind rustling the leaves, no birds singing their songs, and no animals scurrying on the ground. It unnerves her. There is only silence.

She cannot hear anything from behind her. She longs to turn, to check, to see his face one more time, but she must not turn around. 

Instead she starts walking towards a small pinprick of light in the distance. Her feet make no sound. She is still naked. She has never felt more vulnerable. 

Still, she walks. The pinprick of light is now the size of an almond. It will be a long walk. 

Suddenly, she hears something from her left side. She almost twists her head to look, but catches herself just in time and stays looking ahead. She hears a laugh she hasn’t heard in a long time. 

“Brienne!” Renly says, because it _ is _ Renly, she can tell just by his voice. She can tell by his laugh. Her first love, trapped in this darkness? It hurts. She wants to look at him too, just to see if she remembers his face right.   
  
“I’m sorry, _ Ser _ Brienne now!” His tone is merry, just like it was in life, as if he has no cares and no fear. Then his voice changes, becomes mournful and sad, something she never heard in life.  
  
“Oh, Brienne, what are you doing here? This darkness is not for you. You are a knight now!” he says, and she can sense him walking next to her, step by step. “Brienne, go home. This place is not for a knight of summer.”

The Warrior said nothing about not speaking, so she responds. “You are wrong, my king. I am a knight of summer no longer, for I have fought in a war against Winter itself and came out victorious.” 

Renly sighs. “You are a knight now, you have a duty. Go, turn around, wake up in your bed and be a knight. You are wasting time by being here and trying to save a man who does not want it.”

His words wound her, as she suspects he wanted them to. Now she is not fully convinced that it is really Renly, for Renly, as much as she loved him, was not one for wise words. 

“I am a knight, yes, and I do have duties. But I am also a person, a human being, a woman, and I am doing this for myself...and for him.” 

Renly does not speak to her again, and she is alone in the dark once more. 

* * *

She has walked for what feels like hours now. Her feet ache. She is cold. But she still moves forwards and hopes that he is behind her. 

“Brienne of Tarth,” a woman says on her right side, and Brienne almost misses a step when she realizes who the voice belongs to. 

“Lady Catelyn,” Brienne says softly in response, respect and grief coloring her tone. 

“What are you doing here? I trusted you to save my children, and instead of guarding them, you are _ here, _trying to save a man who wanted them dead! Who pushed my son off a tower! A man who stood by and watched as his sister-lover burned down a Sept with wildfire! He does not deserve a second chance. Let him stay here in the darkness. It is where he belongs.”

Her voice is full of sorrow and anger. Brienne understands why. Lady Catelyn has a right to her anger involving the Lannisters, but Brienne also knows that Jaime is more than his sins.

Brienne sighs. “You are wrong, my lady. He has done horrible things, that I can not and will not deny. But he turned away from his past deeds. He knew he was wrong and struggled to be better. I will not judge a person on their worst actions alone. For every bad thing he has done, there are a hundred lives that he saved, if not more. I understand if you cannot forgive him, my lady,” she says in sorrow, “But I have. For he is a different man who has actively changed himself from the man who did those things. He deserves life.”

Lady Catelyn is quiet. As soon as Brienne starts to wonder if she has left like Renly, Lady Catelyn speaks. Her voice is firm and cold. 

“Brienne of Tarth, as my sworn sword, I order you to turn around.” 

Brienne closes her eyes. Her feet keep moving beneath her. “I am sorry, my lady. But I will not,” she whispers miserably. 

She does not hear her voice again.  
  


* * *

Her feet, from what Brienne can tell, are bruised and swollen from walking so much. Blisters throb in time with her heartbeat. Pain is her companion with every step she takes. 

But the light is so, so close. It is only a few miles away. One mile, perhaps, maybe two. 

She looks up from inspecting her aching feet and inhales sharply. This time, the spirit trying to dissuade her has not come up on her side. Instead she faces her, walking backwards to keep eye-contact. Cersei stares with hate filled green eyes. She is as golden and beautiful as ever, wearing a long red dress, her hair braided back elegantly. Her lips are painted blood red and curled in a smile.

“He isn’t behind you, you know,” she says lazily. “You can turn back now. In fact, you must, because it will break your poor heart when you realize you have walked all this way for nothing.” 

Brienne is not surprised that this is the last spirit she will have to deal with. She is starting to understand the Stranger’s game now. Her once-king spoke to her of duty. Her once liege-lady spoke to her of honor, and now the former queen speaks to her about love. 

Brienne does not respond, for she has no words for this spirit. Her silence only eggs Cersei on.

“He never loved you, I hope you realize. You think a month of sex with an ugly woman is comparable to a lifetime of love with me? I am his family. I am the mother of his children, the one who shared a womb with him, the one who he died with. Do you really think he would leave me alone in this darkness, just to follow you?” she laughs at her own mocking words. Cersei always enjoyed the sound of her own voice, and it appears nothing has changed in the afterlife. 

Brienne bites the bottom of her lip, but she still does not speak. She looks down and realizes that she is leaving a trail of blood with every footstep. She winces and carries on.

“I am beautiful. I know how to please him and make him happy.” Cersei says, her eyebrows narrowing. Her anger is starting to show. Brienne is so close to the light. 

“He would never be happy with a great sow like you, foolish girl. He would never be happy without me. We are two halves of the same whole!” Her voice subtly gets higher-pitched, growing almost frantic as Brienne gets closer and closer to the light.

“Maybe,” Brienne finally says, “But I don’t believe that. And I don’t think he does anymore either.” 

Behind her, she hears a sword being unsheathed. Cersei disappears into thin air, as if she was never there at all.

Brienne smiles and steps into the light.  
  


* * *

  
“Ser! Ser, wake up!” Podrick’s shouts wake her, and she sits upright immediately, her chest heaving. Was it all a dream? 

“Come in!” she calls out, her voice hoarse, and the door to her bedchamber flies open. 

“Ser!” he says, confusion, excitement and hope on his face all at once. “Lord Tyrion calls for you - it’s urgent, Ser Jaime is somehow alive!” 

Relief, slow and sweet, floods through her veins. She did it, and he did too. She offered him a way out of darkness, and he took it. She thinks that somehow, she knew he would. Now he is alive once more. He has a second chance of happiness. She hopes he chooses to spend it with her.

Brienne closes her eyes and whispers a quiet, “Thank you.” to the Warrior, then swings her legs off the side of the bed and stands up.

She has a knight to see.

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by the greek legend orpheus and eurydice. 
> 
> this miiiight have an epilogue eventually, we'll see!


End file.
